“Officer, she—”
He lifted a hand.
“Please let me finish.”
Then he looked back at me.
“We’re resolving a property dispute involving several garments ordered for this event.”
I nodded.
“The boutique has documentation indicating the disputed dresses still belong to them.”
I looked toward Clara.
“You’re fighting over clothes you don’t even own?”
“I paid for them.”
The officer corrected her.
“You paid deposits.”
The boutique coordinator added:
“And several garments were never accepted by the women they were ordered for.”
That sentence brought me right back to the restroom conversation.
Simon touched my elbow.
“Come with me.”
He led me toward the coatroom.
The boutique coordinator followed with a tablet.
Clara tried to follow too.
Dave stopped her.
“Let them go.”
The coordinator opened a file.
My name appeared.
Dictionaries & Encyclopedias
Jennifer Harrison.
Underneath was my actual size.
The correct one.
I frowned.
Then she scrolled.
There was another entry.
A modification.
Four sizes smaller.
Requested later.
Authorized by Clara.
Beside it was a typed instruction:
DO NOT SUBSTITUTE LARGER.
I stared at those words.
Simon spoke quietly.
“I called the boutique after we bought your dress.”
Dresses
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“I wanted to ask whether they could exchange the one Mom bought.”
The coordinator nodded.
“That was when we became concerned.”
“Concerned about what?”
“She had submitted similar instructions for several women.”
I thought about the voices in the restroom.
The sleeves.
The neckline.
The comments.
The coordinator opened another file.
“There’s something else.”
On the screen was a diagram.
At first, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at.
Then I saw the heading.
FORMAL FAMILY PORTRAIT.
Names were arranged in rows.
But beside several names were handwritten instructions.
KEEP SEATED.
JACKET CLOSED.
TURN LEFT.
SLEEVES DOWN.
Behind taller person.
Then I found mine.
JENNIFER — BACK EDGE.
SIMON FRONT.
I read it once.
Then again.
Clara had planned where I would stand if I failed to become thin enough for the dress.
Dresses
Not beside my husband.
Behind him.
At the edge.
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the whole thing was so calculated that my brain didn’t know what else to do.
Behind us, Clara’s voice came sharply.
Marriage
“What are you showing her?”
Simon turned.
Clara stood in the hallway with Dave behind her.
The embarrassment from the police situation had disappeared.
Now she was angry.
Simon looked at the portrait diagram.
Then at his mother.
“Were you trying to make Jennifer lose weight?”
Clara said nothing.
“Or were you planning to hide her if she didn’t?”
Her face tightened.
“I was trying to make the photograph look nice.”
That sentence did something extraordinary.
